


Extraction

by flynnparadox



Category: Alien Quadrilogy (Movies)
Genre: Explicit Language, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:41:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28234077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flynnparadox/pseuds/flynnparadox
Summary: A unit of Colonial Marines. A silent research facility. A rescue mission. A survivor. Think you know the story? Think again.
Kudos: 1





	Extraction

**Author's Note:**

> An original story with original characters that takes place in the Alien universe. Plays around with themes and ideas from the films with a hopefully original spin. Takes place around twenty years after Alien: Resurrection, but I figured that the Colonial Marines wouldn't have changed all that much. Hope you enjoy.

15/3/2402

The ship slowly came to life. All throughout the USM Typhoon, panels activated and computers flickered on. Dust had settled on many surfaces, though this jump had been short, only three days.  
The cryobay was large, enough to accommodate several units of colonial marines. This mission only required one, so many of the cryobeds were empty. The main control computer terminal of the bay came to life, displaying a list of personnel on board:  
Lt. D. Byzantine  
Sgt. S. Curry  
Corp. G. Davis  
B. Armitage  
W. Bently  
L. Frakes  
E. Hustle  
G. Kinch  
M. Lira  
Y. Quirell  
R. Rourke  
P. Trench  
K. Urich  
J. Vigara  
The computer activated the waking cycle of the cryobeds. Each of them opened with a hiss of decompressing air. The marines slowly came to consciousness down the line, shaking off the deep sleep.

Grace Davis was tall, scarred, strong. She had short dark blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes. The three day sleep barely affected her. A nap, that was all. She was awake now, in the locker room of the Typhoon, naked and doing pull-ups while some of the others showered or got dressed.  
She was joined by Jenette Vigara, also strong but shorter and more voluptuous than Davis. The two women worked out, part of their regular waking routine. Davis looked at the other woman, smiled. Vigara winked back.  
Kenny Urich wandered by, toweling off his hair. "Why don't you two get a fucking room?"  
Davis continued to smile. The two of them had, in fact, gotten a room during their last shore leave. It had been good. Surprising, even.  
Ronnie Rourke followed closely behind Urich. Davis shook her head as he passed. He was small, lithe, feminine. In combat, Davis wasn't sure how much use he would be. But, as co-pilot of the dropship, he did his job efficiently. At the moment, he seemed interested in Urich's ass. Davis shrugged. To each their own.  
Sitting on a bench nearby, Louis Frakes was quiet, intense. He ate a protein bar and stared off into nothingness. Getting dressed at a locker behind Frakes was Ernie Hustle, his dog tags slung over his back as he shrugged into his pants.  
Paul Trench, Yared Quirell and George Kinch had already showered, shaved, got dressed and headed into the briefing room. Davis saw Michelle Lira closing her locker and grinning at nothing in particular. Warren Bently shot a short, longing look at her then looked away.  
Davis finished her exercise routine and hit the showers. It was a short, efficient shower. When it was over, she headed to her locker. She passed Bee Armitage at the urinals. Armitage was holding her dick and letting out an incredibly long-lived stream of piss into the urinal.  
Davis slapped her ass as she passed by. Armitage shot her a quick smile. She was their main pilot of the dropship. Davis had heard Rourke tell stories about how he had caught Armitage jacking off, on more than one occasion, in the cockpit while the two of them waited for the return of the other marines during a mission. Davis had asked what Rourke had done when he had stumbled across this. "I joined in," Rourke said matter-of-factly.  
Davis shook her head and got dressed at her locker. Bee and her "stinger". She knew that several of the men and at least one of the women would have loved to have been in Rourke's place in that situation.  
Soon enough, all of them sat in the briefing room looking at Lt. Dior Byzantine and Sgt. Sam Curry. Byzantine was a tall woman with the darkest shade of skin Davis had ever seen. She was a good lieutenant, no-nonsense, to-the-point. Curry was on the shorter side, a large scar running down the left side of his face, bisecting his eye. That eye had been replaced by an electronic model, better in most ways than the authentic one, so Davis had heard.  
Davis listened intently as she and the others were briefed on the mission. A research facility on Proserpina had gone dark and hadn't reported in in over a week. They were to investigate, eliminate any threat and evacuate any survivors they could locate. The facility had twelve scientists and one minor, the daughter of one of their people.  
Davis asked a question at this point in the briefing. "What kind of research?"  
Byzantine consulted her personal screen, scrolled through it, shook her head. "Classified."  
Davis nodded. Same old shit. The colonial marines in this sector may have been under the jurisdiction of the United Systems Military but that organization only existed as a name these days. USM meant Weyland Yutani. Which meant that the Company controlled the information. And the Company didn't like handing out information. It just wasn't in their character. Still, Davis would have liked to have known what they were going to be walking into.  
Proserpina was a planet heavily covered in jungle and several massive oceans. Davis had never been there. Its atmosphere was close to Earth normal but no real valuable minerals had been found there. Nor was it ideal for colonization. So, research it was. The Hanger-Mann Facility: classified research. Great.  
The USM Typhoon was already in orbit around Proserpina and the marines all got in formation, got suited up, loaded up the APC. They had top-of-the-line weaponry and equipment. However, much of the basics of firearms hadn't changed in hundreds of years, Davis reflected. Her M56A pulse rifle was essentially the same as the ground-breaking M41A model from over two hundred years ago. It was a better model, certainly - it carried more rounds per magazine and was less prone to jamming - but the basics were the same.  
Davis looked at Hustle, one of their heavy-weapons soldiers. He was packing something different all together: a brand-new A103 plasma rifle. It was big and bulky but Davis had seen the tests for it. It was badass. Could vaporize a battalion if used properly. It was the only one in their unit. Those things were expensive and the Company wasn't ready to just give them out to every soldier in every unit across the system, especially not a sector so far outside of the space lanes.  
Vigara was the unit's other heavy-weapons specialist. She carried the more-common side-mounted machine-gun that had been in use among marines for centuries. A big, powerful warhorse of a weapon.  
Everything loaded on the APC and ready to go, Sgt. Curry walked down the line of the soldiers, happy with what he saw they. They were a strong, unified group. They shared everything and worked as one when needed and as individuals when the situation warranted.  
Satisfied, Curry ordered them onto the APC, which Byzantine herself drove into the dropship. After that was the drop itself.  
Davis had heard that in the old days, a drop was thrilling, like something out of an amusement park ride. Nowadays, with the kind of stabilizers that they had, drops were relatively easy affairs. Davis still felt her stomach drop with the ship as it descended through the atmosphere but it barely registered to her at this point.  
Weyland Yutani had some strange labs scattered across the core systems - and beyond - so they could potentially run into anything down there on Proserpina. There had been a flurry of activity recently, with many new projects opening up. So it was a risk, going in without enough info. But this unit was ready for anything.  
This was going to be a walk in the park. Another glorious day in the Corps.

The dropship set down in a large, carved-out area of a valley. The jungle around it stretched out for thousands and thousands of kilometers.  
When the dropship had set down safely, it lowered its lander and the APC spun out of it, heading towards the research facility. Armitage and Rourke would be staying behind with the ship.  
There were thin slats set into the APC and Davis looked out at the landscape they had set down in. It was raining, visibility almost nil. Davis could see tall, tropical trees that were being thrashed about by a strong wind. And little else.  
The APC came to a stop some ways back from the research facility: a safety measure. If anything went wrong inside, then the APC - and Lt. Byzantine, at least - would be relatively safe.  
The back of the APC opened up and Curry got the marines moving. They rushed out, a fighting unit raring for action. The elements hit them almost immediately. Wind and heavy rain assaulted them.  
The unit pushed forward regardless of the elements. They passed a sign that gave the facility's name. Someone had defaced it and spray-painted their own name for it:  
HANGSAMAN  
Davis frowned but kept moving. They broke up into squads as they headed into the grouping of buildings ahead. Davis could see four interconnected buildings and, beyond those, three glass domes: biospheres of some kind.  
Davis' squad consisted of Vigara, Bently and Trench. The second squad was led by Sgt. Curry commanding Kinch, Frakes and Lira. That left Hustle, Quirell and Urich as the remaining squad, one man less than the others but with the advantage of the new plasma rifle. Obviously, Davis had wanted the man - or, at least, the weapon - on her squad, of course, but she understood the reasoning.  
They approached the main entrance. There was no sign of any trouble out here among the elements. Davis didn't see any bodies or broken equipment. If it wasn't for the pounding, punishing wind, it would have been quiet out here.  
Curry assessed the situation and reported back to Byzantine on the comm. "Orders?"  
Byzantine, monitoring all of their head-cams, took a moment to respond. Then her voice crackled through over the comm. "Proceed into the facility."  
Curry nodded and acknowledged his superior. After that, Kinch proceeded forward and got to work on the access panel set into the wall beside the main door.  
As Kinch electronically unlocked the door, Davis looked around again. She saw that the main doors had an emergency, heavy-duty shield that could be activated and descend from the infrastructure above, effectively sealing the scientists inside the facility. The security door looked like it was practically impenetrable. So, in theory, if something had attacked them - say, some kind of creature that lived on the planet that they were unaware of - they could have just sealed themselves inside and called for help. So what had happened here?  
Kinch got the main doors open. They slid apart down the middle and the marines proceeded inside.  
There were no lights on inside the facility, so Davis and the others turned their shoulder lights on. They passed through several decontamination rooms before reaching a nicely-furnished common area situated between all the main buildings. This star-shaped room split off into buildings reserved for rooms/housing, labs, food/recreation and longer tunnels that led to the domes beyond the facility buildings.  
This area was in disarray. Chairs and tables were overturned - only the couches were undisturbed - and a pistol sat on the floor, its magazine spent. Davis found bullet holes in a nearby wall. There was a stain on the ground near the shots but it didn't look like blood.  
"Sergeant," Lira said across the room.  
Davis turned to regard her. She was near one of the hallways leading to the domes. Sgt. Curry approached her. "What is it, private?"  
But she didn't have to answer him. He saw for himself. The rest of them, a moment later.  
A body.  
The body of a woman in a simple white lab coat. She was on the floor, on her side, eyes open in terror. Her throat had been torn out. Based on the decomposition, the body had been here a little over a week.  
"Alright, people," Curry said. "Looks like this isn't any malfunction in communications. Look sharp. Davis, I want your squad to check out the labs. Hustle, the domes. My team will check out housing and recreation. Move."  
They complied. Davis led her squad towards the labs.

From her command center in the APC, Byzantine monitored the unit's progress, quickly checking each monitor in turn. Just after they discovered the first dead body, she received an automated signal from the ship, in orbit above them. She frowned as she read the signal.  
She opened the comm. "Armitage. Quit spanking your monkey and sound off."  
Coming through the comm, after some audible fumbling, was Armitage. "Yes, sir."  
"Typhoon is reporting an object approaching the planet," Byzantine said. "I want you to track it on the dropship's sensors."  
"Affirmative," Armitage said. "You think it's a ship?"  
Byzantine tilted her head to one side, then the other. "Could be. Small, though. Some kind of transport? Whatever it is, keep an eye on it."  
"Got it," Armitage said.  
Byzantine shut down the comm and directed her attention back to the monitors. She zeroed in on Sgt. Curry and his squad, as they entered personnel quarters.

The first living quarters they checked contained nothing of real interest. The usual mixture of family photos or holovids, personal items and lint. There didn't appear to be any signs of a struggle.  
The second quarters, however, were another matter entirely. Laid out on the bed was a second dead body. To Curry, it looked like the scientist had been sleeping when someone or something caved his head in. His head had collapsed at the nose, which was crumpled inward, destroying his upper jaw, his eyes and brain behind it.  
The smell was awful but Curry was used to it. They were always cleaning up after some mess on various colonies and space stations. Many of those messes involved dead bodies. Lots of them in worse shape than this body.  
Kinch was looking squeamish, skittish. Curry turned his attention on the man. "Button it up, Kinch. We knew this was a possibility. Don't bug out on me now."  
"Yes, sir," Kinch said. He still looked off.  
Exiting this room, they started in on the next. They would find six more bodies in total in personnel quarters.

Davis and her squad also found a body in one of the labs. Davis knelt down by the corpse to examine it as well as give Byzantine a better look at it with her headcam. The left temple of the man's head was crushed, his head almost flattened by a massively powerful blow of some kind.  
Davis shook her head. "A human being couldn't do this. No way."  
"Mira," Vigara said.  
Davis obliged, looking in the other woman's direction. Vigara was near a central area of the lab. From what Davis could tell, there had been three large glass containers of some kind here. They had been broken. There were glass shards all over the floor. Whatever had been in the glass containers weren't here anymore.  
"Some kind of experiment that went south?" Trench offered.  
"Maybe," Davis said.  
Byzantine came through on the comm. "Davis."  
"Go ahead," Davis said.  
"Download any data that you can from the lab," Byzantine said.  
"Affirmative," Davis said and cut off the comm.  
She accessed her portable vidscreen and approached one of the computer stations. Having all the right WY codes granted her easy access into the systems and she downloaded every bit of data they had.  
Something felt off about the lab. Something that Davis couldn't quite get her head around. After a bit more investigation, they proceeded into the second lab building.

The domes were a marvel. Hustle led his squad into the first large structure, weapons at the ready, but he was instantly struck by the extraordinary beauty of the biodome. It was the jungle outside the facility in miniature. A biosphere of its own. The trees and plant life were thick in here. The temperature was balmy, humid. Hustle saw plants that he didn't recognize at all, sitting alongside exotic fruits and the like. It was incredible.  
When the girl appeared - running out of the thick jungle - he almost shot her; an instinct, the animal part of his brain trying to override the rational. She was young, probably fifteen or sixteen, gawky, with short red hair and a lot of freckles. Pretty in that growing-into-themselves way that teenagers had.  
She ran right at them, fear on her face. "Thank God you're here! They're dead! They're all dead!"  
She embraced Hustle around the middle, not even noticing his weapons. She buried her head in his chest. Hustle felt some unnatural stirrings in his groin.  
"Calm down," Urich said. "Now, who's dead? What happened?"  
The girl shook her head, face still buried in Hustle's chest. She was sobbing.  
"How 'bout your name," Urich tried. "Huh? Your name?"  
"I'm Greta Reynir," the girl said. "But everybody calls me Gretel."  
Quirell was already on his pad, accessing records. He looked up at Hustle, nodded. "Checks out. She's the daughter of one of the scientists, Dr. Gene Reynir."  
Gretel looked up at Hustle, a pouting, pleading look on her face. "He's dead. My daddy's dead."  
Hustle was having none of it. He grabbed the girl by her shoulders. "Tell us what happened. Now."  
Gretel shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "They were growing something. Something in the lab. Whatever it was, it got out. And it killed them. It killed all of them. Oh, God."  
She buried her face in Hustle's chest once again. He sighed and opened the comm. "You seeing this, lieutenant?"  
Byzantine came through on the comm. "Yes. I'll inform the others."

"A what?" Davis asked.  
She and her squad had moved into the second lab building. They found much of the same: broken containers of some kind, things in disarray. There were three bodies in here, two of them with their heads crushed, one with their chest collapsed in a similar manner.  
Davis was on the comm with Byzantine. The lieutenant sighed. "She wasn't specific. Some kind of creature that had been grown in the lab. Something that got out and killed everyone in the facility. She hid in one of the biodomes. Lots of places to hide, plenty of water and food to live on."  
"Jesus," Davis said.  
Trench shook his head. He was on his pad, scrolling through the data that they had downloaded from both labs. "It doesn't add up, lieutenant."  
"Explain," Byzantine said.  
"This facility," Trench said. "Well, it's hard to tell, exactly, but it looks like they were working on developing a new food source. They were growing bulk food. You know, trying to develop a way for colonists and miners to grow their own food if their environments are too hostile. I don't see anything here that would indicate some kind of monster that they'd be growing in their labs."  
"And yet," Byzantine said, "they were all killed by something that clearly wasn't human. Something stronger than a human being."  
"Doesn't make sense," Davis said.  
Armitage crackled through on the comm. "Lieutenant."  
"Go ahead, Armitage," Byzantine said. "I've got the team on the comm with me."  
"That ship that's heading towards us?" Armitage said. "Well, based on its signal, it's a Synadrone Systems ship. Some kind of pod designed for one person."  
Synadrone Systems, a major rival of Weyland Yutani. Corporate espionage, perhaps?  
"Like an escape pod," Davis said.  
"Exactly," Armitage said. "A way to extract someone from the planet remotely."  
"Like a spy," Byzantine said.  
"A spy that can crush someone's head like it was a grapefruit?" Vigara said.  
Davis looked at Vigara. Her mouth dropped open in shock. "Jesus. Oh, fuck. Hustle? Hustle, do you read me? Come in."

Hustle and his squad were just exiting the dome. He had been listening to the conversation but wasn't really following the others. He was paid to shoot at things and nothing else, at least in his estimation.  
So it came as a complete surprise to him when he was grabbed from behind and thrown into the wall of the hallway with incredible force. He dropped his plasma rifle when he felt something in his right shoulder crack at the impact. He dropped to the floor and looked up.  
Gretel had already grabbed hold of Quirell by the face. Her fingers clawed under his upper lip and got between his lips and teeth. He started to scream. Hustle could see blood as Gretel tore into his face from under his skin. He could see the girl's hand as it traveled under the skin of the man's face and climb up his head. Gretel's fingers reached the man's eyes and poked them out. There was a sickening pop as the man's eyeballs exploded.  
"Light her up!" Hustle ordered.  
As he fumbled for his sidearm - using his left hand, his right was useless - Urich took a few steps back from Quirell and the girl, aimed his pulse rifle. He fired three, short controlled bursts. All of the shots found their target: the center mass of the girl.  
Gretel was blown back by the impact. In the process she completely tore the skin of Quirell's face off and took it with her as she went down. She didn't bleed normal blood. Her blood was milky white.  
Something jogged in Hustle's memory. Synthetics. She was was a synthetic. He didn't think that they even existed anymore. They had been outlawed over twenty years ago. So where did this girl come from? Was she made illegally by Synadrone Systems?  
Whatever the answer was, it didn't really matter. She was dead now and though he mourned the loss of Quirell, at least the horror was over.  
He sighed and tried to get up. It didn't go so well. He had certainly broken something in his right arm and needed medical attention. Quirell fell against the opposite wall, shaking as he bled out, clutching at what remained of his face. Urich, seeing that he couldn't do anything for the man, approached Hustle.  
As he crossed the short space, Gretel sat up. Hustle could see that her wounds were already healing, sealing themselves up.  
This wasn't right. He had never heard of a synthetic that could do such a thing. New model, he mused. Great.  
He opened his mouth to shout a warning to Urich but it was too late. Gretel jumped on Urich's back and grabbed hold of his head with both hands.  
Urich screamed in pain, dropped his rifle and started to clutch at the girl's hands. It was no good.  
There was a series of horrific cracking sounds as blood began to pour out of the man's mouth. Nose. Ears. Eyes.  
There was a final crunch as Urich's head collapsed in on itself. Hustle was covered in the man's blood. But he didn't have time to process it. He had to get to a weapon. Any weapon.  
His sidearm was holstered on his right side which was a problem, since his right arm was useless. He fumbled around with his left, managed to flick the safety catch open before Gretel knocked his hand away.  
The marine looked up at her in utter terror. She was covered in blood now. She was smiling. It was hideous.  
He reached out for his plasma rifle, which was nearby but seemed so far away. Gretel saw this and stepped on his searching left hand. Hustle felt intense pain and heard the bones in his hand give away as Gretel crushed it with her small foot.  
Once again, he looked up at her. He opened and closed his mouth, not knowing what he could do. The pain was too much.  
Gretel leaned over him - that hideous smile spreading across her face - and put a finger to her lips. "Shhhh."  
Then she grabbed him by the throat and squeezed. Mercifully, he didn't live much longer.

Byzantine scrambled. She tried to order her team out but the comm was down. Something had happened. The last thing she had seen was the girl - Gretel - killing Hustle. After that, the girl had grabbed something from Quirell's still-twitching body, held it in her hands and punched in a sequence and everything had gone dark.  
She started driving the APC towards the facility, meaning to rescue her team. As she closed the distance, she speculated.  
So, Synadrone Systems had planted a new model of synthetic in their rival company's research facility. They had either replaced Dr. Reynir's real daughter or the doctor had been in on the plan the whole time.  
Byzantine didn't know and didn't care. What she did care about was getting her team out of this hellscape.  
She drove the APC into the complex. As she approached the main door, she saw the security door drop into place. Immediately, she stopped the APC. There was no way she was getting through that security door. It was at least a meter thick of hard metal.  
Her unit was trapped inside. With a killer synthetic.

Curry and his squad reached the hallway first. The four of them stormed into the small space. It stretched out in front of them. To Frakes, it looked like a nightmare. He could see the bodies of three of his fellow marines on the floor at the end of the hallway. All dead.  
He saw the girl - the synthetic, Gretel - move. Saw her grab something off the floor. Something big and bulky. She held it with both hands and aimed. Frakes saw what it was a little too late. "Hit the deck!"  
Gretel fired the plasma rifle that Hustle had been carrying. A short, hazy red bolt of laser plasma energy shot from the rifle and traveled down the hallway like an arrow fired by the Gods themselves.  
The bolt hit Sgt. Curry just below his neck, instantly burning a hole right through his body. The bolt passed through him and hit Kinch - who was shorter than Curry - right in the head. His skull exploded like it was a watermelon hit with a shotgun blast. The plasma bolt continued to move and Frakes hit the wall, just missing it. It ended its path of destruction in the common area behind them, blowing apart a couch.  
Kinch's body hit the floor, headless. It dropped like a stone. Sgt. Curry wobbled on his feet for a moment, then the weight of his head was too much for what remained of his neck and it fell off, bounced on the ground as his body toppled over.  
Frakes and Lira opened fire on Gretel with their pulse rifles. Both of them hit the girl but the shots barely seemed to affect her: she fell back onto her ass. Was that laughing? Chuckling? Frakes thought so.  
Then the girl fired again. She hit Lira in the left shoulder. The woman's arm was gone instantaneously, along with a good portion of her torso. She fell to one side against the wall and Frakes could see her rapidly beating heart through the exposed wound in her body. She looked at him but didn't see him. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped to the floor.  
Frakes did something he wasn't proud of then: he ran. He retreated back into the common room and kept going, heading into the lab buildings on the other side.  
He could hear Gretel laughing the whole way.

Gretel chuckled to herself as she walked among the corpses, heading down the long hallway to the center of the complex. She leaned the plasma rifle against her right shoulder, held in one hand. Its weight was nothing to her. The synthetic nanobots in her body were busy repairing her wounds. It took a matter of seconds.  
She paused at the body of Sgt. Curry and knelt down. She grabbed his head and held it by the hair. She began to whistle and swing the head as she walked.  
The Synadrone Systems automated transport pod would be here soon. She would be leaving with all the data that she had gathered here.  
What a great day. She had been missing other people and was afraid that she would leave here without seeing anyone else. And now there was a whole unit of soldiers to play with. Could a girl get any luckier?

Davis and her squad almost took Frakes apart when they ran into him. They recognized him at the last possible moment and held their fire. Trench actually did fire, a short burst into the air, right above Frakes' head. Frakes ducked, frightened.  
They met at the entrance to the first lab. Davis and her squad were leaving while Frakes was trying to enter. He was frantic, almost manic.  
Davis finally had to grab him. "What happened?"  
Frakes shook his head. "The girl. The girl! She killed them. All of them."  
"Who?" Davis asked.  
"All of them!" Frakes insisted. "We don't have time for this. She's coming!"  
The central area of the complex was dark. Frakes turned to look behind him at the darkness. He shook in place.  
"She's here," he said.  
Davis frowned. Then she heard someone whistling in the dark. It was an eerie sound, like the voice of a ghost. Then laughter. Then something came rolling towards them out of the dark. It stopped at Frakes' feet. Davis and the others saw what it was.  
Sgt. Curry's severed head looked up at them, lifeless and glassy. He seemed to be screaming, though they heard no sound.  
Davis looked up in alarm, scanning the darkness. Then a bolt of plasma energy shot in their direction. It hit Bently just below the belt. His hips exploded, his legs immediately becoming detached from his body and flying to either side like twigs. His torso and upper half fell to the floor. He screamed in abject pain.  
Davis lit up the darkness with pulse rifle fire. The others - Vigara, Trench and, after a moment, Frakes - did the same.  
In the brief flashes of light provided by the gunfire, Davis could see her - Gretel - as she ducked and dodged out of the way, scurrying off into the darkness. She was playing with them.  
Despite her years of experience, Davis began to panic.

Byzantine piloted the APC around the side of the facility, rounding around to the main biodome. When it was in sight, she repositioned the APC and activated its guns. The APC was equipped with two caseless ammo miniguns.  
She drew in a deep breath and let it out. Then she fired both weapons at the glass dome.  
The dome was strong, made to withstand the elements of a harsh planet like this. But it wasn't designed with the modern APC in mind. After a moment, the guns punched a hole in the glass dome.  
Byzantine could see compressed, recycled air escaping into the atmosphere. It would have been a beautiful site to behold if she wasn't so pressed for time. As it was, she barely noticed it and drove the APC into the biodome.  
She had to save what was left of her unit.

Bently was still screaming as he fumbled across the floor, desperately trying to grab one of his dismembered legs - the right one. His eyes bulged out of his head as his vocal cords turned to bloody shreds as his screaming intensified.  
The others had ducked into the darkness of the central area. Davis crouched behind a large sofa. She shook her head. It wouldn't provide much cover if it was hit by a blast from that unit-killer that Gretel had.  
As if to prove her point, another blast from the plasma rifle came shooting out of the darkness, smashing through the sofa barely a meter away from Davis' head. The blast continued and hit Bently in the back just as he retrieved his severed right leg. The blast burned a hole right through his body and dug into the floor, leaving a smoking crater. Bently was finally silent.  
"He wasn't very fun," Gretel said out of the darkness.  
Vigara took a chance and stood up from her position on the opposite side of the room. She fired towards the source of the voice. Her heavy rifle punched through the darkness. She managed to hit Gretel at least four or five times. The girl was blown back into the darkness.  
Davis, Frakes and Trench stood up as well, also firing. But the girl was gone. She rolled into the darkness out of the way.  
Davis saw that she had left the plasma rifle behind. It was sitting on the floor right next to a couch that was identical to the one Davis was hiding behind. She looked at Trench, saw that he had also noticed.  
Without prompting, Trench made a dash for the rifle. Davis went for him. Missed.  
"Don't!" she said.  
But it was too late. Trench had taken the bait. He reached the rifle and got on his knees to retrieve it. He reached out for it at the same moment that a hand reached out for him from behind the sofa.  
Gretel took hold of his hair and pulled. Trench resisted and pulled in the opposite direction. Then he began to scream, blood starting to run down his face from his scalp.  
There was a wet ripping sound as Trench was scalped, his hair and a good portion of his face tearing away and crumpled up in Gretel's hand. Frakes, in a panic, fired at Gretel. Most of his shots hit Trench, a line of bullets stretching from his side up his body, the last one punching through his left temple. He went down, dead.  
There was confusion for a moment. All of them fired now, punctuating the darkness with gunfire. They hit nothing. Gretel wasn't anywhere, it seemed.  
Davis ordered a cease fire. After a moment, they obliged.  
Crouching, she circled around the room, sweat dripping down her forehead. She reached the entrance to the hallway leading to the domes.  
A shape rose up out of the darkness behind her. It raised its rifle, took careful aim. When Davis finally noticed, it was too late. The killer synthetic was going to fire.  
That was when the APC came hurtling down the narrow hallway from the dome. The vehicle ground up the walls on either side of it, shredding them.  
Gretel turned to the oncoming threat. She adjusted her aim.  
Davis jumped out of the way as the APC smashed into the girl. Gretel went flying across the room, milky white blood spraying in all directions. She dropped the plasma rifle.  
The APC spun in place, coming to rest with its back end facing the remaining marines. It opened up at once.  
Davis could see Byzantine inside the APC, looking back at them. "Get in!" she ordered.  
They didn't need to be told twice. Frakes dashed inside first, followed closely by Vigara. Davis was last. She grabbed the plasma rifle off the floor and headed inside. The APC's loading bay closed behind her.  
After that, they headed back down the destroyed hallway. To the dome. And the hole created by Byzantine. And the dropship. And off this planet.

They emerged into the harsh jungle and sped around the complex. Davis struggled into the co-pilot's seat. As they rounded around to the front of the complex, Davis could see the main security gate rise. Could see the doors open. Could see Gretel running out of the facility. Heading from them.  
"She's not dead," Davis said.  
"Son of a bitch," Byzantine said.  
Davis didn't see the dropship anywhere. She craned her neck, looking up. A pod came crashing down to the ground from space. It burrowed itself into the dirt and spun until it stopped, revealing an entrance. The entrance opened up.  
The craft was small, designed for one person. No guesses on who it was for.  
Gretel was running towards the escape pod. She paused briefly, to flash a smile at the departing APC. Then she dashed to the pod, displaying inhuman speed.  
Just before she reached it, Davis saw the dropship circle around, out from behind a large grouping of tall trees. It rounded on the escape pod and fired its guns. The pod exploded, sending Gretel flying back into the jungle.  
"Armitage, my girl," Byzantine said.  
The dropship landed, its loading bay already descended. The APC drove into the loading bay. The bay began to close when something jumped onto it. It was a pair of hands.  
Davis struggled out of her harness and opened the passenger door. She stood up on the siderails and looked back. Gretel pulled herself onto the loading bay of the dropship. She was smiling.  
Davis shook her head. "No. No way. No free rides."  
She leveled the plasma rifle, took aim and fired. Gretel was standing on the edge of the loading bay as the dropship ascended into the air. She cracked her head to one side. Smirked.  
The plasma bolt hit her center mass. She was blown into at least four pieces, all of them falling out of the dropship and tumbling down to the planet below.  
A fountain of milky white blood covered the loading bay. The bay doors finally sealed closed and the dropship rocketed into the atmosphere.  
Davis collapsed and hit her ass on the hard floor of the loading bay. What had happened? It had all been too much. Too fast. So many people lost.  
But it was over. All finally over.

Some time later, down on the surface of the planet, some ways from the research facility, an arm crawled towards the rest of its body. When it reached the rest of the mass, it reattached itself.  
Gretel sat up, whole once again. She checked the arm, flexed, made a fist, opened it. She nodded. Seemed to be working fine.  
She stood up, slowly at first. She looked up at the sky. Her eyes adjusted, focused. She could just see the USM Typhoon in orbit. Waiting for the return of its dropship.  
They got away.  
Gretel shook her head. There would be others. There had to be. And no matter who it was - Weyland Yutani, Synadrone Systems or the entire USM-backed Colonial Marine Corps - she would be ready for them.  
She had all the time in the world.

THE END


End file.
